Page 6 of The Brooklyn Way

“You apparently think it’s cool to cuss in front of me like a low-priced ho.”

“Dang!” my sister, Carrington, said entering the kitchen just in time to hear our mother speak those words to me. “I think Mom just said you’re a ho, or she said that you’re treating her like a ho. I’m not sure.”

I wasn’t sure, either. That didn’t stop me from laughing. It didn’t stop my mother, either.

“Now,” my mother said, turning into the Jackson Island socialite that I knew, “what were you saying about my garden parties?”

“I was saying…” I poured orange juice into my glass, proceeded to drink every drop, then filled the glass again. “I was saying that I’m not trying to have you parading me around your garden parties or in front of your debs. I’m not up to being forced to make nice with a whole bunch of people I don’t know or like.”

“Yet, you’ll allow Coach Allerton, the mayor, and the citizens of Chicago to parade you through the streets?”

“Ma, that parade is in my honor. It honors the team. It honors our accomplishments. Come on. Don’t pretend like you can’t see the difference in the championship parade and your garden parties.”

“Cameron, my events are about raising money for—”

“Ma.” I cut her off.

My mother was an attorney by trade. Arguing you down and forcing you to not only concede, but to bend to her will was what charged up her battery. It had taken me years to figure that out and govern myself accordingly.

“I’m not coming.” I took a beat. “But if I choose to show up… to support you, I don’t want you running me here and there, introducing me to donors. I want to come as a guest to support my mother.”

While I was talking, Carrington caught my eye and gave me a full-on smirk. She understood that Madeline Field had to be finessed. I had twenty-eight years of experience dealing with Madeline; I knew what to say.

“Besides, Cameron already agreed to facilitate my bridal boot camp. We’ll be working out almost every day for eight weeks leading up to my nuptials.”

In undergrad, I chose to major in Exercise Physiology, because I was a lazy eighteen-year-old kid who didn’t want to be tied down with difficult coursework. What I found once I was in the major was that I really liked it. I developed a passion for the effects of exercise on the human body, the human brain, and the human condition.

Because of my love for the movement, health, and function of the body, I was considering opening up a small facility that focused on offering one-on-one training for student athletes when I retired from the NBA. Carrington’s “wedding boot camp” was going to operate as a sort of… focus group. I was going to gather and analyze the data from her situation and see what came from it.

“Okay.” My mom sighed reluctantly. “I want you to come to a few of my parties, son. I promise that I won’t force you to meet every guest, just the important ones.” She made eyes at me. “Okay?”

That was why she had to be finessed. She was always too invested in getting her own way.

“Three people, Ma. I’ll let you introduce me to three people.” I took a beat, then teased, “So, choose wisely.”

Carrington giggled.

1

Brooklyn

I woke up the morning of March fifteenth with a smile on my face for the first time in… I couldn’t remember when. I handled my hygiene and dressed, while happily half-humming, half-singing “Free Yourself” by Fantasia. I was feeling so good that I ventured out of my sanctuary, making my way to the living room. Once there, I perched myself in the bay window with my gaze focused on the street so that I could see the truck pull up.

I ignored Vince, as he moved around the common areas, doing whatever he did in the mornings. I was usually locked in my bedroom, so I never knew what he was doing. Vince was in the kitchen. The tinny sound of a metal pan colliding with the man-made countertops rang through the air. That was followed by a sound that I knew was water sloshing from an over-filled pan onto the stove.

His sloppy ass, I thought to myself. Kelly can have him.

That thought had barely cleared my mind when I felt the tingling of goosebumps break out over my skin. Seconds later, I saw both a large black Chevy and a large U-Haul truck pull to a stop in front of the building. A wide grin broke out on my face because I knew that both vehicles were here for me. I was especially excited because the Chevy truck was carrying precious cargo in its passenger seat. It was carrying my paternal grandmother, Ruth Waverly.

I scurried across the living room to the front door, swinging it open and bounding down the stairs before my grandmother had even exited the vehicle.

“Big Red!” The excitement in my voice caused my grandmother to give me not only a huge smile, but a saucy wink, as she climbed from the SUV. “Big Red.” The second time, my voice was much softer, but the reverence I felt for the lady standing in front of me was still evident.

Ruth Waverly was a slight woman with fair skin, large hazel eyes, a semi up-turned nose, sandy brown hair that was both thick and curly and a full bottom lip. She was strikingly beautiful, remarkably outspoken, impressively unapologetic, and extremely unbothered. I wished that I had inherited more from her than just her full bottom lip, her curly auburn hair, and her large hazel eyes.

Everybody called her Big Red, including her children and her grandchildren. The “red” was because her skin was so fair that she was known as a “redbone” in her hometown of Fenwick, Kentucky. The “big” was due to her lack of height, but it was also a testimony to her personality, which had always been larger than life.

There were three of my cousins with her—one in the driver’s seat of the Chevy, and two in the U-Haul truck. They stayed put, waiting for my grandmother to give them the word to start loading my belongings in the truck.